


Reconciliation

by ktbl



Series: Strange and Lovely Things [2]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Epilogue, F/M, Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: Sometimes what you need after a some soul-baring and uncomfortable discussion is a lot less talking.(serves as a bit of an epilogue to Best Laid Plans)
Relationships: Sonya Blade/Takahashi Kenshi
Series: Strange and Lovely Things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624903
Kudos: 16





	Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> Kept this separate because of ratings and for folks who just don't want to read smut. That said, this is effectively an epilogue to "Best Laid Plans", picking up where things left off.

His laughter surprised her. She hadn’t been thinking clearly all day, and this was only compounding it. After their ruinous conversation earlier that day, she’d gone home early and sat in her shower for an hour, berated herself in a way her boot camp drill instructor would have been proud of, and gone hat-in-hand (and only a little metaphorically; she’d left her cover in the truck) to Kenshi to apologize for being a poor friend. She hadn’t assumed he’d still be interested in her, not after what had happened between them. She’d planned to go out and have a few stiff drinks so she wouldn’t be picky, and find someone worth distracting her for a little bit of time. Being honest and commenting about looking to get laid was flippant at best.

Teach her to be glib around him.

Now, the dark-haired swordsman cupped her face in his hands, thumbs on her cheeks, and drew her down to him. She let him, mouths meeting hot and messy, nothing careful or gentle about it. She gripped the back of the couch tightly, settled herself on his lap and hearing his throaty groan as she did. His hands held her face, and she pressed herself against his body, hips shifting, rolling, drawing out another moan from him. After feeling powerless and scrambling for control all day, this was right.

She wanted to banish the day she’d had, and if he was willing, well, there were worse ways to do it. With that thought she kissed him again, bruisingly hard, grateful when his mouth opened up again beneath hers. Then his fingers began to play along her body under her shirt, across the spread of her ribs and climbing up to her breasts, cupping them, squeezing. She arched against him, pulled her mouth away from his only to bring it down to the side of his neck, marking it with kisses and small bites. She felt his response, the hard bulge in his pants, the way he sucked in his breath, tightened his hands on her. She rocked against him again, and he made a choking noise, pushing himself up against her, feeding the heat growing between her legs. 

Idly curious, she began to think - as strongly as she could - about what she’d do to him, if she got him in a bed. She laid a line of soft and gentle kisses along his collarbone, close-mouthed and chaste, and tried not to grind against him. Instead, she thought in great detail about about stripping off his pants and burying her face between his thighs, or the way she would look atop him. She grinned as she felt his hands tighten again on her breasts and his hips arch up against her again.

“Being nosy in my head, are you?”

“You’re thinking very loudly,” he answered in a rough voice, nipping at her neck. “Difficult not to.” His hands slid down underneath her and cupped her ass, and with a moment of concentration and effort he heaved the two of them off the couch. Startled, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She squeezed her legs around him to help support her weight, kissed the side of his throat again, and was surprised as he carried her - there weren’t many who could carry her, or even risked it - to his bedroom. It was dark, street lamps and moonlight outside casting a faint yellow-white light inside. The faintest tendrils of worry began to curl inside her - what if someone saw, what if someone guessed? 

He sat down on the bed, and she loosened her grip on him. His hands were hot against her skin as he eased her down onto the bed, onto her back, stretching out beside her, and then it was all hands and mouths and tongues again and she didn’t care about lights. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly enough to take him in, the long and surprisingly gentle fingers, his broad shoulders and the muscles that shifted under his shirt. She reached for his button on his pants and he pulled himself away from her, an act that surprised her - as did the irritated throaty growl she let out.

“No. Not yet. I want to touch you. I want to touch you until I know every inch of you.” He flipped up her shirt, slid it up so it bunched at her breasts, and she knotted a hand in his hair as he dropped kisses onto her stomach and drew nonsense shapes with his tongue. Her breath came harder and more jagged as he drew it out. She felt the coiling warmth between her thighs and her hips pressed towards him, felt him smile against her stomach. He reached a hand down and first traced, then slowly worked his mouth down and kissed the fresh scar along her side, her souvenir from Kira. Every touch sent sparks through her. “Until I know you inside and out.”

And he did. It drove her mad, his deliberate delay, and she knew he knew it too. For every lunge she made for him, he would touch her more gently, drawing it out and tormenting her in ways that only made the ache between her legs grow. Her shirt came off, followed by her bra in short order. The air was cold against her skin, making his hands feel all the hotter, her skin growing more sensitive the more he kissed and licked and touched. She wanted, she needed - and he knew it, and seemed to feed off it. Kenshi took one of her breasts into his mouth, squeezing the other and rolling her nipple between his fingers. 

Both of them worked her jeans off, and he spared only an amused smile and chuckle as he felt her definitely-not-military issue underwear. 

“You did have plans,” he teased. 

“If you’re gonna critique my clothes, save it for later.”

“Just appreciating,” he murmured, stroking the silk lace slowly and deliberately. She could tell he was savoring the texture beneath his fingers, and whenever her breath caught he would repeat whatever he’d done to elicit that response. She made a strangled sound and saw the broad grin on his face as his fingers slid along the front of the lacy underwear and between her thighs. “I like these very much. And the sounds you make. I could listen to them all night.” She shuddered as his fingers worked at her through the fabric, and she grabbed at the sheets with both hands. 

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Want me to stop?” His thumb rubbed back and forth, and her grip on the sheets tightened, hips pushing against his hand. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips, and she shook her head mutely.

“Didn’t say that,” she managed. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled the lace underwear off her, letting it fall to the floor. 

She started to sit up and he pushed her back down once more, not ungently, a hand on her hip pinning her in place. She pushed back against it, trying his strength; he held her in place still, fingers digging in. He shifted on the bed, still fully clothed to her great annoyance, and marked the insides of her thighs with kisses and light bites. She reached for him to draw him back up but he was careful, stayed out of her reach. “I’m not done yet.” 

“Ffff….” The ability to speak coherently disappeared as he took his other hand, slid it up along her leg, and his mouth marked a slow and deliberate trail from her navel to the curls at the apex of her thighs.

“Eventually,” he said, mouth close to her skin and his breath warm across it, “but not yet.” And then he dropped down, rucking her knees up over his shoulders. Surprise jolted through her, along with pleasure, and one of her hands curled around the back of his head, the other making a fist in the bedsheets. He was taking his time, as if - no, not as if. He was enjoying himself, even though she felt faintly awkward. She sucked in another breath as he applied tongue and lips and all of his attention to her. He just settled in, hands holding her in place, tracing every fold and it was like he noted every spasm, every twitch. When she moved, when she moaned, he sighed in satisfaction and then focused more until he could feel her tremble, and then was gone again, finding a new part of her to set aflame.

When she thought she couldn’t take it any more, he slid a finger inside her and crooked it just so and she made a sound she would have called a whimper if anyone else had made it - Sonya Blade never whimpered - bearing down against his hand and mouth. He grinned and she could tell, damn him, as he began moving his finger slowly and deliberately, tongue still busy, and then slid a second finger in to join the first. Both hands twisted in his hair as she pushed herself up against him, the fire in her abdomen sparking and spreading in an explosive burst throughout her body, a surprise to no one more than herself as she lost the last of her vaunted self-control.

He sat up slightly, the broad smile still on his face. “I can’t decide what I like more. How you taste, how you smell, or the sounds you make.” He ducked his head down and laid a kiss on the inside of one of her thighs, making her writhe again. She sat up and grabbed him by the biceps, pulled him to her, kissed him hard and tasted herself on his lips and tongue. He licked his lips slowly and deliberately and she growled again, managed a quick move, her hand shooting to the bulge in his jeans, and he jerked slightly at her snake-fast grab. “You’re overdressed. Out. Now.”

“Should I be worried?” He settled back on his heels as she released her grip and sat up, and her hands worked to quickly strip him of his shirt, spending no time over a slow exploration, but driven by the hunger that was already stirring in her again, the need to make him yield and lose himself just as he’d done to her. Her fingers worked at the button of his pants. He made no move to shed them, and she made a noise of irritation, a hand sliding down and in, and she felt him twitch again as her palm slid over his cock. “Yes. Yes, I should be,” he managed. Sonya smiled wolfishly. 

“Damn right.” She rubbed again, watching him as she did, savoring the undisguised look of desire on his face. His mouth hung partially open, the muscles taut in his jaw and neck. “Out of your clothes. Now.” She was surprised how quickly it suited him to take orders, now, and had stripped bare in moments. He still had his legs swung over the side of the bed when she slid off and knelt down between his legs. 

“Sonya, you don’t-“

“I want to,” she said, and that was enough to shut his mouth. At first his hands were clenched in the blankets, and then moved to rest atop her head, and finally twisting slowly into her hair as they both grew accustomed to it. She brought him to the edge, and held him there. She looked up a few times, eyes focusing on his face, the column of his neck and the muscles tightening, the jaw and the mostly-closed eyes that cast a very faint blue light in the room. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and she reached one of her hands up and raked her nails down his back. He jerked forward, deeper into her mouth, eliciting an unguarded moan from him.

“Sonya,” he managed in a strained voice. She made a questioning ‘hmmm?’ in response and felt his fingers tighten in her hair, his muscles quivering, at the vibration. If he’d wanted to work her up, she would be more than happy to reciprocate. What her mouth didn’t take, she busied her hands with, stroking the length of him, working lips and tongue and savoring the way his body shuddered under her ministrations. He made a noise again, fingers tightening against her skull, twisted in her hair, and then tugged up gently at her head. She pulled her mouth away, releasing him with an audible pop as suction broke. 

“If you keep doing that…” he rasped as she stood up, “I will not be of much use to you.” She lay her hands on his chest, thumbs flicking across his nipples, and she felt him shudder against her. 

“Think you’ll find a way,” she said, and he hooked his arms around her and tugged her back down to the bed. He lay her down with gentle fingers, the kind of gentleness that made her growl again as she strained against it, wanting, needing and not wanting to be delicate about it. He knelt again between her legs, and she grabbed at him to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge. She could feel him, rigid heat brushing against one thigh. 

“What is this, enjoying the view?” 

“In my own way.” Kenshi kept moving his hands along her legs, up along her stomach, her sides, her ribs, cupped her breasts, stroked the line of her neck, ran one thumb along her jaw and chin, across her lips. He heard her frustrated sound and she caught his thumb in her mouth, drawing it in, sucking on it and tongue swirling around it, nipping once with her teeth, before she let it go. He chuckled, shifted again, brushing against her. “Last chance.” Her hands dug into him and pulled him forward, and he didn’t fight it this time but slid into her, one thrust that settled him fully to the base, hips flush with hers. She arched her back and moaned - not quietly - hands clinging to his hips.

“Are you all right?” He leaned down, forehead creased with worry, kissed the corner of her mouth, and made to slowly withdraw, but her hands on his hips held him in place. 

“More than. I just - want to enjoy it.” She rolled her hips, tightened muscles, felt him tremble and heard him inhale sharply. He kissed her again, then pressed his forehead to hers. 

“All that grabbing and clawing and now you want me to slow down?” She saw the faint curl upwards on the corners of his mouth, and he shook his head, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. He shifted position, drawing another inarticulate sound from her. Sonya curled her hands around his upper arms, ran downwards along to his elbows, out to his hands, then back up, over his shoulders, down his chest. He moved within her and she drew a deep breath in, rocking her hips slowly. 

“This could take all night.” He rested his weight on his elbows so he could continue to kiss her, nip gently, and - she was certain - hear every breath she took. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She could only focus on his movements, slow and deliberate thrusts that filled her each time, sometimes drawing a whimper when she felt the emptiness where he’d been. She held his hips and tilted hers, trying to find a way to take him deeper. 

“If only it could,” she thought she said, before the idea of thinking was gone, talking too complex. Mouths turned to other things, finding their own way to reconcile the words that had come, and gone, between them. They shifted, moved, her hair coming loose and falling like a curtain around them when she moved atop him. They found a rhythm that satisfied them both, Kenshi’s hands trying to touch every bit of her skin they could reach. She felt sweat collecting in the small of her back, tasted it when she licked his neck, dewed on his upper lip when she caught his mouth again for a rough and hungry kiss. His hands cupped her breasts, holding the weight of them in his hands, fingers cupping, stroking, gently pinching until her back arched and she sucked in her breath, toes curling.

Sonya bent her head down, kissing the side of his neck, and then felt his body tense beneath her, hands settling on her hips and urging her pace. “Sonya,” he said, managing her voice with a leaden tongue, two syllables far too difficult. His body tightened, and he pulled her down again, tight against him skin-to-skin as he spent himself inside her. She followed him again moments later, and made a not-so-soft noise muffled against the curve of his neck as she stretched herself down against him. He cradled her on his chest, hand spanning one of her shoulder blades and beginning to idly stroke a knuckle back and forth across it. Their panting breaths subsided slowly, finding their way back to normal, entwined in a satisfied, satiated stupor.

Then she stretched, rolling off him. “If I can manage to walk, it’s time for me to head home.” 

“I would try to convince you to stay, but I know better. Nothing stops you when you have set your mind to it.” He looked down at his chest, at a series of red lines across it, and she flushed ever so slightly. “Good thing I am not a certain actor we both know, and actually wear shirts.” 

“Mmm,” she said noncommittally, hunting for her clothes, gathering things up and heading for his bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, tugging her shirt down, and stuck her head back into his bedroom. “I’ll see myself out. No point in making you get out of bed.”

“Drive safely,” Kenshi offered, having not moved much. “And I will not be sparring with you tomorrow. I am not entirely certain I could walk right now, let alone fight.”

“Well, we still need to debrief you about Outworld,” she said, “so I’ll expect you in my office.” 

“You know me. I’ll come when you call.” 

Her mouth parted in a smile. “Maybe we’ll try that another time.”


End file.
